


Call if you don’t drop dead (call if you do)

by hollowsof



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, First Meetings, Human AU, M/M, NonPeculiar, Snippet, graveyard date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:58:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9038633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowsof/pseuds/hollowsof
Summary: Jacob hates SmartAid. But if he wants his gap year, this is what he'll be spending his time doing. But not if Enoch O'Connor has anything to do with it.





	

Jacob Portman hated SmartAid with such a burning, fiery passion, that it made the devil jealous. If he could quit like he wanted, he’d have been out the door and backpacking across Europe like he’d wanted to do during his precious gap year, but his parents put their feet down, and so here he is, stacking 50% off soup cans in one of the center aisles, and trying to convince himself that there’s more to life than this.

It had been a long, long day. He’d tried to stay asleep during most of it, but ever since what happened to his grandpa… he just couldn’t. Sometimes he would still get the weird nightmares, the anxious feeling that something was horribly wrong. It had been years since the incident, though, and Jacob was pretty sure he was almost done convincing himself that what he had seen was just a trick of his mind, something that blocked out the fact that his grandfather had died alone in the woods because of the disease eating away his brain. Still, something inside of him had broken, and he had yet to return to the same him he once was. He doubted he ever would. 

The lack of sleep was troublesome, especially during this season, in which Jacob had demanded to work completely alone on the night shift. At first, not a single person liked the idea. Barb, the store manager, was wary, especially after all the things she knew Jacob had been through. When his grandfather passed away, she doubted Jacob would ever be the same. They were close, and she didn’t consider Jacob to be a strong person. Or someone that could deal with that weight all alone at all. His parents were worse. After the intensive care Jacob had required only a few years ago, they had only ever seen him as fragile. They’d even taken to paying Ricky to be around just that much more. 

Eventually, and with the help of a lot of compromise, I.e. Jacob basically agreeing to constant surveillance, always under the eye of his watchful parents and whomever they paid to stand in their place when they were gone. The blissful few hours alone in the store were his alone time, his saving grace. He hadn’t even known SmartAid was a 24/7 store until after he’d come back from his break from the real world. And when he learned that? He was so excited he about lost his head. To say that the most exciting part of his week was standing completely alone in the middle of the tiny store, stacking soup cans in the aisles, was saying a lot. He was in the process of facing the labels outward, so that the customers could properly read them, when 

“Hey, asshole.” The voice held a thick quality to it, a British accent, Jacob was sure. He didn’t know much about accents at all, but this one sent a thrill through his body. He lifted his head to look up at its owner, a boy with dark hair, white T-Shirt and roughed up jeans, standing at the checkout counter with an emergency sewing kit and a pair of scissors. "Are you going to ring me up or just stand there staring at soup cans like a basket case?“ 

Jacob stood, shocked, in the aisle for another several moments, his jaw hanging just slightly. He wasn’t the kind of rich kid to say ‘don’t you know who I am?’, but that’s all that was running through his mind. 'Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know that my family owns the very business you set foot in? Don’t you know that I will one day own part of the business you decided to walk into at two-thirty in the morning and buy a goddamned ladies’ emergency sewing kit from?’ 

"Well?” British dude demanded, almost violently gesturing at the counter. 

Jacob scurried to the register, fumbling with the electronic scanner, and very slowly managing to ring him out. All the while, British dude tapped his foot impatiently and crossing his arms like a brat. 

Jacob swore when he opened his mouth that he was going to read the total out. He was going to finish the transaction and then rid himself from this rude guy for the rest of his days. He’d go home, go to bed, and forget the guy ever existed. What came out was far from the total. 

“What’s your hurry, got a hot date?” He sarcastically implored, the words dipped in venom, and shot out without a second thought. 

British dude only smirked, a devilish fire lighting in his eyes. Jacob should have known then and there what he would be getting himself into. 

Thrusting his hands onto the counter, and leaning forward, British dude- who was a couple inches shorter and smelled really good, like fresh laundry and something he couldn’t place- leaned up an whispered, actually whispered, into Jacob’s ear. As if this were a completely normal act. As if they were friends or even more, which Jacob swore they weren’t. He’d never even seen this dude around. 

“I might if the idiot cashier decides to call when I leave the receipt with my number behind on the counter.” 

“What?” Jacob choked out. 

“What?” British dude mocked. 

Rather suddenly, he jerked away, grabbing the bag with his goods from the counter and striding out SmartAid’s front door, the bell chiming soberingly loud. It was only then that Jacob noticed the receipt laying, discarded, right in front of him, along with a crumpled ten. 

'Enoch.’ it read, before listing the number. 'Call if you don’t drop dead. Call if you do.’ When had British dude even find the time to write out the message, let alone find a pen? How had Jacob missed this?

Time started moving slowly. Jacob became immediately clairvoyant. 

He’d tuck the receipt in his pocket. At first he wouldn’t stop thinking about it. It would burn a hole. But that hole would mend itself over time. He’d think about calling, but he wouldn’t. He’d think about the hey-mom-I’m-kind-of-bisexual conversation, feel like a failure even though she’d mostly been okay about the whole thing, get nervous, and back out. He’d punch the number into his cell phone at least twice a day. And then slowly but surely, he’d forget the number, it would disintegrate in the wash, it would become worthless. He’d never see British dude- Enoch- again. 

Jacob almost let that happen.

Before he could think twice about what he was doing, he jerked the store keys off of the hook under the counter, and bolted for the door. Something had been born within him, telling him he would rather be anywhere than here. It also told him that this Enoch, strange and outlandish, and just a little more attractive than Jacob had wished he was, was the answer. 

Jacob pushed into the dark and cool air, and immediately started feeling a weird sense of relief, as he scanned the parking lot for that boy. His eyes came to rest on the back of Enoch’s head, which was traveling away from him, and towards a car that hadn’t looked in much better shape than Ricky Pickering’s Crown Victoria from back in high school. 

“Wait!” Jacob called out from his spot by the door. He was encased with nerves at this point, but Jacob is used to it. Somewhere along the way, after the death of his grandfather, it had started to become painfully common, this excess of fear when talking to people. His therapist had called it anxiety. 

Enoch snapped back around, as if surprised. 

“What? Decided you can’t live without me that quickly?” He hollered, teasing back. 

Jacob blushed. It wasn’t true, not yet at all, but the way Jacob could see it happening, all in a flash right before his very eyes, was enough to make his face red. 

“Um. You forgot something!” Jacob answers, tugging at his shirt sleeve, a habit that had come with the nerves. 

"What would that be?“ The other asked. Jacob was almost sure he could see him smirking from across the parking lot. 

"Me.” Jacob honestly couldn’t believe that the word had come from his mouth. Even now he could feel himself changing. Enoch had come walking into the store, spent no more than fifteen minutes interacting with him, and had already impressed upon Jacob some of his outlandish behavior. 

“Well hurry the fuck up then, won’t you.” 

Jacob was shaking, as he jammed the key into the lock, and wriggled it. He figured his manager would be less angry with him this way. He didn’t care much what she thought, however; he hated this job. He’d been trying to get fired since high school. See how that went? 

Enoch had already been clamoring into the driver’s seat as he tore across the parking lot. He took that as an invitation, and pulled open the passenger side, climbing in himself. The car smelled strange, like rubbing alcohol and cigarettes, simultaneously clean and dirty. There wasn’t much littered on the ground at all, although the interior had quite a bit of patchwork to it, several places in the seating sewn back together, and he was almost sure that the radio was a lot newer than the car itself.

Enoch was still wearing that devilish smirk, as he started up the car, pulling out of the parking space. 

“You’re an adventurous one, aren’t you?” He asked Jacob. 

There was a giddy feeling in Jacob’s chest, the same feeling he got in the second grade when he broke into his teacher’s classroom on purpose with a friend, just because they got the opportunity. Like he was doing something bad but he love, love, loved it. He was pretty sure it’s called an adrenaline rush. It would seem about right, Jacob has never done anything too bad. Most of his life he spent protecting his mother’s image. Acting out had horrible consequences. 

“Not really, no.” He answered. 

“Well you could’ve fooled me.” 

With that, Enoch turned the radio on and the volume up. Good old fashioned rock and roll blared through the speakers, and Jacob nodded his head appreciatively. He could hear Enoch’s rough, accented voice mumbling along to the song. He wondered, if Enoch sang louder, how would it come out? Would his voice be beautiful? Would he be awful? Was he shy? Jacob got the inkling that this was only the beginning of all the questions he’d have about the boy next to him. Five minutes alone on the dark road, and Jacob yearned to know him better than anyone else in the world. 

The fact that this was a perfect stranger, driving him only god knows where, just didn’t seem to phase him. Jacob felt one of his knees bouncing up and down, on its own accord. Those damn nerves. 

“Relax, I’m not gonna kill ya.” Enoch reassures. It somehow isn’t that convincing, but the stranger isn’t the problem, it’s himself. 

“Where are we going?” Jacob asks, if only to break his terribly awkward silence if anything. 

“Special place. One of my favorites.” Enoch replies with a wink.

Jacob doesn’t have to wait long. Only about fifteen minutes, actually. If Jacob had been paying attention to the direction they were headed instead over focusing on his company, he might have realized. There’s only one thing out past the woods, only one thing that might be considered a nuisance, something hidden away because overly hopeful town council hoped to attract lost tourists on their way to Disney. 

“The graveyard?” Jacob asks, a little surprised. “You’re taking me to a graveyard for our first date.” Jacob blushes as the word 'date’ leaves his lips. He isn’t usually this outgoing. 

“I told you. Special place. At least to me. That a problem?” 

The way Enoch asks the question implies that he’s being sarcastic, maybe kind of moody, but the way the shorter boy looked at him hopelessly out of the corner of his eyes was a whole different story. 

“Not at all.” 

When they finally arrive at the graveyard, Enoch parks in the vacant lot, and it’s only then that Jacob realizes that the actual graveyard itself has been closed for several hours already, and is extremely closed and off limits. Jacob’s stomach flutters. 

“Hey, um, Enoch?” Jacob mumbles out, the name still so foreign and exhilarating the first time it rolled across his tongue. “Isn’t the graveyard closed?” 

Enoch very tiredly rolls his eyes. “Yes. You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Jake P.?” 

“How did y-” 

Before Jacob can even finish asking, Enoch taps a hand against Jacob’s chest, barely grazing the name tag still pinned to his work shirt. 

“Oh.” He says simply. 

“Now come on.” 

Enoch climbs back out of his car, gesturing for Jacob to do the same, and he does. He guides Jacob right up to the side of the gate, and grasps the bars, climbing and heaving himself over. Jacob notes that there’s little light, only a few tall lamps along the outside fence, and he can tell they don’t reach very far at all. 

“Always avoid the front. Only cameras in the place pointed right at the entrance. You know how to climb a fence, don’t you?” 

Jacob bites his bottom lip, watching him move. He had never done anything like this before. Ricky had trouble convincing him to spray paint old boxcars. Breaking into the graveyard after dark? The thought filled him with dread, but here he was, doing it anyway to impress a boy. The rudest boy he’d ever met. 

“Yes.” He lied. 

Enoch waits with his hands on his hips, staring at him with a cocked eyebrow, from the other side of the fence. Jacob climbs. It’s awkward, and he’s trying to hurry so he doesn’t seem so new at the task. He does, but Enoch smirks. He loves taking firsts. 

When Jacob lands and dusts, actually dusts off his clothes, Enoch looks him over for a few moments. He circles Jacob, taking in his entire body, not unlike a predator. 

“See anything you like?” Jacob asks. He’s timid, but he doesn’t sound it, for which he is so grateful. 

“Maybe.” Enoch stops behind Jacob’s back. He abruptly steps up close to the taller boy, tapping him on the shoulder. “Tag, Jake. You’re it.” 

Jacob snaps around so quickly, he gets dizzy, but Enoch has already disappeared into the darkness. 

“Enoch, wait!” He calls, chasing into the darkness after him. He can’t put words to the sense of dread that overcomes him when the dark encases him, too. Memories of his grandfather’s lifeless body pass through his mind, first casually, and then panicky, until he ultimately trips, and falls to the cold ground. 

He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been running until he feels relief in the way the air hits his lungs. He balls up when he finds the strength; brings his knees to his chest and leans against a large headstone. He sits there in the silence for a million years it seems, trying not to think about anything. 

A voice breaks the silence, snapping him back to reality. 

“You’re kind of dead inside, aren’t you?” Enoch asks. Although Jacob can’t see him, he sounds close enough to touch. 

'The other side of the headstone.’ He thinks. 

Jacob’s breaths are steadier. Even though it’s probably because he’s no longer alone, he doesn’t think he’d rather have any perfect stranger on the other side of the headstone. 

“I could see it in the middle of SmartAid. Call if you don’t drop dead. Call if you do. I specialize in bringing the dead back to life, you know.” 

“You do?” Jacob answers back, airily. “How is that?” 

“You’ll see.” He whispers. “If you’ll give me the chance.” 

They sit there in silence for minutes more, Enoch’s words sinking in. Jacob doesn’t know what to make of it yet, but likes the way that it makes him feel. He likes that someone, for once, didn’t ignore that disdained emptiness that filled him to the brim. That instead of ignoring what there was so blatantly a lack of inside of him, Enoch had offered to help fill him back up all over again. 

Hesitantly, Jacob turns and leans around the side of the headstone. He’s surprised to find Enoch right there, pale face and dark hair, brown eyes. So frustratingly new to him, and all the same Jacob wants it around forever. Maybe he’s foolish, and that’s young love or attraction or whatever you call it, but he felt like this rude boy could very well be someone he could fall in love with. He wondered if Enoch felt the same. 

Without a second though, Jacob leaned forward and pressed a sloppy, harsh kiss to the other’s lips. 

“Hey asshole.” Enoch says, an actual grin framing his mouth now, his voice softer this time. “Let’s go get 3 AM dinner and get to know each other, okay?” 

Jacob nods. 

As they stand and stride towards the graveyard, Jacob finally feels a little bit of something in the pit of his stomach, and he hopes it consumes him whole.


End file.
